


Through The Dark

by VisionaryGalaxy



Series: A Thousand Futures of Me and You [77]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Insecurity, Lack of Communication, Living Together, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 19:52:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18105311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisionaryGalaxy/pseuds/VisionaryGalaxy
Summary: Stephen is tired of being lonely and let's his insecurities get the best of him.





	Through The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Ok a little more chill then the last one.

   When Stephen woke at one am to an empty bed in Tony’s tower, it was to a feeling of quiet resignation. He allowed himself only a moment of staring at the empty spot next to him, the sheets cool to the touch, as he let the nightmare slide from his mind.

   With practiced ease of a routine long memorized, Stephen slipped out of the bed and picked up the long grey robe hanging off a chair in the corner of the room. Making his way out of the bedroom, one hand ghosting carefully along the hallway as his feet padded along the cool hardwood, he tried to ignore the bitterness welling up inside him, the twisting sense of loneliness in his gut.

   He went to the kitchen with a single-minded intensity, ignoring the echoes of breaking glass and squealing tires in his head. As he entered, low lighting came to life, Friday adjusting it without having to ask anymore, the realization made Stephen feel a little sad. With trembling hands and slow, delicate movements, he went about making tea, trying and failing to think about the pain radiating through his hands, real pain mixed with a phantom memory.

   He would make the tea, sit in silence at the bar sipping it, until around three am when he would go back to bed, wide-awake until four am, or if he was lucky, three-thirty, Tony would return to bed. In a way, Stephen could admit he was being a bit hypocritical about their situation, yet it didn’t stop him from having the urge to just return to the Sanctuary, shut himself away.

   Their relationship was going on eight months, a miracle really. But only for the past one, had they been experimenting with staying the night in either the Sanctuary or the Tower. It had been Tony’s idea, and it didn’t take a genius for Stephen to realize this was Tony’s less then subtle version of a dry run of living together, could practically see the yearning in his eyes for weeks and weeks now.

   Stephen had been for it at first. They hardly spent enough time together as it was, and he thought it would be a great way to see more of each other. He had been horribly wrong.

   Instead, Stephen found himself plagued by thoughts and realizations that they were never meant to work out in the first place. Sitting on the bar stool, blowing gently over his steaming tea, Stephen realized that he had never felt more lonely.

   Right now, Tony was downstairs in his workshop, building and researching like a fiend. It was hardly new, and Stephen had no right to this feeling of abandonment, to the insecure thoughts swirling in his head. Rationally, he knew he was just as likely to do the same until midnight and during the day it could be argued he was worse. But there was something about thinking every night he would get to share his bed with Tony, only to realize it applied only to maybe two out of seven if he was lucky.

   It certainly wasn’t as though he had never tried to talk to Tony. The first week they attempted this dynamic he had tried going to see him only to be waved off with vague promises of soon and thirty more minutes. The man was so far in his head it would take a bloody rocket to get his attention properly. The same happened at the Sanctuary, him disappearing to the small makeshift workshop they had put together in order to fiddle.

   If Stephen was being honest, he didn’t want to distract the man. Didn’t want to come across as needy for the man’s attention, when he was the one who was supposed to be keeping his head on straight, taking all this slow.

   Still, sitting there, staring out the window, Stephen felt down right pathetic and filled with the urge to go home, his home. He wanted to disappear into the Sanctuary, get lost in his world of books, magic, and learning. Stephen was tired, of trying, of wanting, of pretending to be capable of something he wasn’t.

   He loved Tony with all his heart. It was utterly impossible not to after gazing into the stone and viewing every facet of a man that was by all rights a fascinating creature. But he was coming to the realization that he may have been kidding himself to think the two of them could ever be compatible.

   The Cloak slipped into the room, its edges swaying and the air around it, one of expectation and Stephen smiled a little. He stood and summoned his usual robes, which he could change out of when he got home and felt himself stand a little taller as Levi fastened itself to his shoulders. “Friday, please inform Tony that I’m heading h-home for the night. I’ll try to call him tomorrow,” he stumbled over the word home, aware of the implication.

   “Yes Dr. Strange. One moment please.”

   He was already sliding his sling ring out and onto his fingers when Friday spoke up again.

   “Boss is on his way up. He would like to know what the emergency at the Sanctuary is.”

   Stephen frowned, forever unable to lie to the man even as there was a pull on his hand as he raised it to begin summoning, “tell him its alright. No emergency, just…need to go for a bit.”

   Friday didn’t miss a beat, clearly not even bothering to relay the message, “Please wait for Mr. Stark, I’m afraid your departure might upset him.”

   He almost laughed at that. Friday’s attitude and sense of independence was coming an eerily long way. Yet, something about the tone of her voice, made him pause despite the twisting in his gut as he turned back to the doorway, where he could hear Tony’s footsteps echoing closer.

   Not a moment later, Tony himself walked through the doorway, only to freeze at the sight of Stephen, dressed and sling ring at the ready. He was dressed in sweats and a tank top, a sheen of sweat on his forehead and his usually warm eyes, crowded with concern.

   “Stephen? What’s going on?”

   Staring at him, being face to face at one am suddenly made Stephen feel incredibly foolish. Here he was ready to leave with barely a word to his lover with the full intention of disappearing for the next few days, all because he let a nightmare unsettle him and the dark to send his insecurities running wild.

   He swallowed thickly, “nothing, sorry.”

   Predictably he immediately shook his head, stepping closer like he was afraid Stephen would bolt at any second, he wasn’t all wrong, “you’re shaking,” he murmured. “How about you sit down for a minute?”

   “I’m fine,” Stephen gritted out, hating the gentle tone.

   Tony paused, “ok sure. Except I’m pretty sure you just had a nightmare and we both know how that messes with your head-”

   “What do you care?” Stephen snapped, the words bubbling out uncontrollably, his mess of emotions coming together in a burst of anger.

   For his part, Tony seemed startled, mouth opening but no words coming out.

   Stephen could feel himself pale. He was usually so in control of his emotions, “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean that. I need to go.”

   Tony moved then, coming closer and shaking his head again, “no, stay. Please.”

   Stephen blinked at the pleading tone, but before he could react, Tony’s warm hands were slipping into his trembling ones, so much worse then usual. The touch was like a shock to his system, always was now a days, and he found himself being led to sit on the couch only a few feet away, weak in the face of the attention he craved.

   Tony sat next to him, not releasing his hands and god why was Stephen so pathetic?

   “Stop,” Tony murmured, and Stephen froze. “I can see it in your face. You’re thinking too much.”

   Stephen found himself looking down at his lap, where their fingers were intertwined.

   “What was the nightmare about?” Tony tried, tone soothing.

   Stephen couldn’t help but bristle a bit, “nothing new.”

   There was a pause before Tony clearly decided to push on, “why were you going to leave?”

   Stephen didn’t know what it was, the dark, the nightmare, the warmth of his lover’s touch, the earnest sound of Tony’s voice, but the words came tumbling out, tinged with bitter hurt, “if I’m going to be alone, I’d rather be at home.”

   He could feel Tony still next to him, the quiet intake of breath and Stephen wished he felt guilty, but he was just so tired. He hadn’t slept properly in a week and it was finally catching up with him.

   “Look at me.”

   Stephen grimaced, but his hand was already releasing his and coming up to turn his chin toward Tony, whose expression was a confused kind of hurt. The hand on his chin used its thumb to start stroking over the skin of his jaw.

   Tony swallowed, eyes assessing him like he was a problem that needed solving, “you…feel lonely?”

   Stephen almost laughed at that, almost, “what do you expect Tony? We eat dinner, watch a movie then you disappear to your lab. I get its your job…your passion,” Tony’s mouth opened to speak but Stephen rushed ahead. “And I have no urge to take that from you, but I’m sick of feeling like an abandon guest in your house. I’d rather just go home, do my own thing there. We weren’t ready to try this, we were rushing and didn’t think it through, we aren’t cut out for a proper relationship-”

   “ _Stephen_ ,” Tony cut him off, eyes wide and unhappy. “jeez slow down. I’m sorry, I got it all wrong and its completely my fault. Don’t you dare say we don’t work together,” he declared vehemently.

   Stephen was too tired for all this.

   Tony’s hands came up to grip either side of his face, “sweetheart, I was trying to give you your space.”

   “Space?” Stephen asked dumbly.

   A self-deprecating laugh slipped out of his mouth, despite his eyes darting over him anxiously, “yeah, you always went on about being an introvert and liking your space. When you finally agreed to try us out like this, I didn’t want to crowd you, overwhelm you.”

   Stephen blinked at him slowly, then after a moment of contemplation…smacked him on the side of the head, “you couldn’t just _tell_ me that?”

   Tony’s hand came up to hold his head with a betrayed look, “oh and you couldn’t just _tell me_ , you weren’t happy?”

   “I didn’t want to disturb your work; besides I know how hard it is for you to fall asleep in bed anyway.”

   Tony huffed out a sigh, before shooting Stephen a tentative look, “alright, how about we’ve both been idiots, its three thirty am and we’re tired, so let’s just go to bed?”

   Stephen hesitated just a moment, the nightmare back on his mind, but then Tony was running a hand through his hair, just how he liked, and he couldn’t help but lean into it.

   “Come on, please love?”

   “Yeah,” Stephen murmured. “That sounds good.”

   Tony chuckled quietly, “good, let’s do that then talk for real in the morning.”

   Stephen nodded, the exhaustion already dragging his eyelids down, “we’re really shitty at communication.”

   “Good thing we have all the time in the world to improve it.”

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments make my day and keep me loving this ;)
> 
> P.S. my goal, should my muse accept, is to reach a hundred stories by Endgame, since I have a little something planned for that milestone. Let's see if I can do it without making all my fics shit ;)


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